


The Story About You

by NotShissou



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotShissou/pseuds/NotShissou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You. Yes. You, with the eyes. And lungs. You're very clever, aren't you? You've figured out how to unleash one of the most powerful forces of chaos onto the world. Now what are you going to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Experiment

All around you the towering pines swayed with the strong mountainous winds. The sounds of tens of thousands pine needles rubbing up against one another was, in comparison to the dense silence, almost deafening. If you didn't already know what you were looking for, and what that thing meant, it might concern you that there seemed to be no small wildlife as far as you could see or hear. Not even a bug. That is... _If,_ you didn't already know what you were looking for.

When the wind died down, the only sounds around you were your own heavy footsteps in the damp dirt. Forests and woods always seemed damp. Gross. You were not a forest-person. You weren't quite a busy-city person, but you weren't a forest person either. You were glad that you opted against wearing something fashionable over something airy and comfortable. Your too-round-in-more-than-one-place body was already dampening with the effort of hiking through the dense forestry. It didn't help that the sun hung high overhead, and warm spots peeked in between the treetops high above you.

You found what you were looking for by accident-- or rather, at the very least, unexpectedly. You did not expect it to be... So out in the open. But it was. Only half covered in moss, and bird-dung. A stone pyramid statue with one, gaping eye and a thin, lop-sided tophat that did not look as if it were carved-- nor did it look as if it were built-- rested crookedly, half buried in the earth. If this were not what you were looking for, you might find the pyramid statue with one, gaping eye and a thin, lopsided tophat to be intimidating or unsettling. As well it should, for someone who weren't looking for this very statue. This statue, if your months of pouring over dusty, old, religious texts and choppy phone calls with spiritual enthusiasts informed you correctly, was a statue that caged a demon of dreams and chaos.

The statue did not loom over you. It did not emit some kind of ominous aura or low-pitched hums. This statue that supposedly caged a demon, you thought, was surprisingly... Normal. It's only striking remark, in your opinion, was that it did not look as if it had been carved or built. It simply looked as if it were a stone that had always been in that particular shape-- as if the earth had simply intended for a large stone to look that way.

The sun continued to hang high overhead, and you were standing in a warm spot that became uncomfortable. You stepped into the shade, and pulled your heavy backpack from your shoulders with a quiet ' _oomf_ '. It made a heavy _thud_ when it hit the ground. A camera and a collapsable tripod were the first objects to be pulled out from the heavy backpack. You took numerous pictures of the surrounding area and of the statue before finding a flat piece of earth to set your tripod up upon. It was necessary and important to document the events that happened at this location today, you thought. No one knew what would happen-- or even if anything would happen at all.

You felt a little crazy for spending your first summer out of college driving across the country to investigate a possibly demonic statue. But only a little. The _tiniest_ bit.

The next object to be liberated from your outrageously large backpack was a thick, black book that was more than just a little worn around the edges. Extra pages had been stuffed in sporadically, and sticky notes stuck to the inside of the cover in layers. The scrawls inside were hasteful and chaotic. But they made sense to you. They were your notes. Everything. The product of all of your studies of the supernatural. Ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, and demons... And this statue. The statue that supposedly caged a demon.

With little regard for respect or ceremony, you propped your open book on the pyramid's top-hat and rummaged deep into your backpack once more. The forest was still silent. The sun still poured unreasonable warmth from overhead. You hummed a tune from your childhood contentedly.

Eight candles, all of uniform size and color; You stuck them straight into the ground in a circle around the statue. You still hummed the tune from your childhood contentedly. The wind picked back up, and the tall pines began whispering loudly against one another again. The breeze was a welcome relief from the overhead sun. However, you had to wait for the wind to die down before you could use your cheap, gas-station lighter to light each candle in turn.

Candles lit, and sun hanging only a little lower in the sky, you set your camera on its tripod to 'record', and ran a finger over your notes one last time.

"Oh!"

You'd almost forgotten. The last ingredient-- the last necessary bit to break this demon out of his prison. Or, supposedly, at any rate. You dug a picture out of your backpack, and stuck it into the crease of your thick book so that it would not flutter away.

"There we go," you drawl. "That should do it. Now," you begin, taking a deep breath.

"Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium," you say monotonously.

Standing up straight, and adjusting your squinted gaze from your notes, you peered around with concern. The forest was still silent, and the sky was still blue, and bright. The wind did not stir. You thought to try again.

"Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium!" This time, you made an effort not to sound so... Textbook. With little avail.

You waited, again, with only the own sounds of your thudding, and overly excited heart, and the flashing red 'recording' dot from your camera to keep you company. Still, nothing changed. You waited patiently, long after the sun started to dip lower into the sky, sitting cross legged in the long grass. You waited through a snack, through several more bursts of wind, and finally, when the sun began to dip into the horizon, you resigned that the statue was not, in fact, going to respond to your chanting.

The candles had long burned low, and were merely waxy nubs. You didn't bother unearthing their ends and the wind had long ago blown them out. They could stay there. You did, however, repack your book, and your collapsable tripod, and your camera into your over-sized backpack. Without stealing so much as a backwards glance at the pyramid statue with one, gaping eye, and a small, lopsided top-hat, you trudged back the way you came-- back towards civilization. You trudged away, back to from where you came, and did not see the spidering cracks appear on the statue as the sun set.

 


	2. Dream

Night is often quiet, and calm. Night is the time that we close our eyes and let our bodies rejuvenate; The world slumbers and dreams of fantastical things. Night is also when the long shadows of evening grow and consume everything in thick blankets of dark. Night is when the things that bump, and growl, and moan come out to play. This particular night, quiet and sleepy, was certainly cooler than the day had been. It came as a breezy relief from the warm, sweaty day you'd experienced.

Your camera rested, pointed lifelessly, towards your small, lumpy bed in your motel room. The complimentary television hummed quietly with some backwoods show you had no interest in paying attention to. The cheap plastic blinds rustled in the night breeze, but did not rustle loudly enough to draw your attention away from your fairly new laptop. You paused your reading long enough to take a sip from the gas-station coffee you'd purchased on the way back from your earlier trek into the woods. Then you read more.

Today's experiments had not gone the way you'd hoped. They did, however, go the way you expected. This was, in its own way, quite satisfying. It was also quite disheartening in another. You wondered, if perhaps, you had not fufilled the ritual to completion. You wondered if you had, somewhere along the line, recieved false information. Not all of the people you reached out to over the phone had been... Cooperative.

There had been one, in particular, that stuck out in your mind. An older man had answered the phone. He'd sounded exhausted. Or maybe he just sounded like that. Or maybe he was under the influence of illicit drugs. But it had been dawn when you called, so you imagined that there was a higher probability of exhaustion. When you mentioned the demon and the ritual to summon him, the male had yelled something along the lines of, 'DO NOT MESS WITH THAT THING, LADY!' before hanging up the phone hard enough to snap unpleasantly in your hear.

The late night crept upon you without you noticing, and when your tired, half-lidded eyes finally caught wind of the time, you grumbled unintelligibly and closed your laptop. You fell asleep before your head even hit the lumpy motel pillow. And you slept peacefully, and heavily. You slept through the strong gust of icy wind that rustled your blinds so hard that one fell off of it's cheap plastic hinge. You slept through the ominous blue light that flashed briefly on the dusty windowsill. You slumbered through the drop in temperature, and the quiet laughter that the cold air brought with it. You slept, and while you slept, you fell into the dark, monochromatic landscape of the world beyond.

When your otherwise uneventful dreams _shifted_ into something else, you became distinctly aware of it. Although this was not your first walk-about in the mindscape, you had to consciously calm your nerves. In experiences past you had awoken yourself in the dead of the night during the most crucial of studies because of gotten far too excited for slumber to keep you. You consciously made efforts to keep yourself calm, and to remain unaware of your physical presence outside of _the dream_  .

Was it coincidence that you slipped into the mindscape tonight, of all nights? Coincidence seemed unlikely. You thought of your journal, with all of its sticky notes on the inside of the cover, messy scrawls, and worn corners. You willed it into being, exactly as it was. You knew how this place worked, and you willed it to be what you needed it to.

The thick black book plopped into your awaiting arms, and you flipped it open hastily to the pages with the ritual written down in bold, red, letters.

"Asetnoheptus?" You said into the monochromatic void. Your voice sounded faint and far away, "Asetnoheptus? Asetnoheptus. Asetnoheptus. Asetnoheptus!"

Laughter erupted into the void, and thick, churning black consumed the space around you. Your journal burst from your hands and ignited in cold, blue flames. There was no temperature here, but still your breath came out in small, foggy clouds. There was source of light, yet still it winked from existence and left you in complete darkness, save for the great, gaping eye that opened beneath your feet. It was blinding, and chilled your mortal self to your incorporeal bones. The laughter rattled on from everywhere around you-- from inside you. _You_ were laughing. _You were_  the laughter.

The great, dark, shadows morphed in a way that made your eyes hurt. It sank into itself and a it glowed in an incomprehensible way. From this impossible blackness came forth a dapper, triangular being with one large, gaping eye that stared and stared at you. Through you. Into you. And the laughter ceased.

"Wo-ho-ho-ho-how!" It said, circling high above you. The blackness gave away to chipper goldenrod. " _Man_ it feels _good_  to be back!"

The triangle-demon flexed a tiny black limb. Several things happened at once. A series white searing light in circular shapes erupted all around you. There was a sound like metal grinding on metal, and the circles bulged inward. With a loud ' _pop_ ', huge balloons of all shapes and colors came forth. They all had faces on them. Some were eerily happy, smiling from ear to ear with huge, white, sparkling teeth. Others wore expressions of morbid terror, and leaked a strange black sludge. Strange, translucent streamers rained down upon you. They smelled distinctly of sulfur. A flat tune buzzed somewhere around you. It sounded like some old pop song. Familiar, but _wrong_  .

"Oooh yeah! This is my _jam_!" exclaimed the triangle, extending a tiny cane and spinning it happily.

If you had a heart here it would be pounding. If you could sweat, it would be cold. If you had lungs, they would be paralyzed with terror, or perhaps awe. Instead, silent, mortified, curiosity, was the best that you could do. You were certain that in normal circumstances you would have woken up long ago, and it was all you could do to keep your own terrified and irrational thoughts from becoming reality around you.

The triangle was saying something that you did not hear. Your own opaque eyes snapped back into focus and you met its large, gaping eye with intent. Your experiment had worked. The ritual had _worked_! And there was work to do.

"Welcome back to Gravity Falls," you greeted cordially. You hoped that the subtle trill in your voice did not betray you. For just a moment, the Triangle _morphed_  into something else-- something dark, red, sulfuric, and terrifying. But just for a moment. A blink. And it was a dapper... Whatever it was, again.

"I should be saying that to you!" It said with a weird sort of forced laughter, "I'm Bill. Bill Cipher. Omniscient force of energy and some more stuff that your puny human brain probably could never comprehend. Thanks for breakin' me out, Kid!"

Bill sauntered in air around you arrogantly. He snapped a tiny finger and the music, balloons, and streamers that smelled like sulfur all disappeared with a noise that sounded like fabric tearing.

"What's the matter kid? Cat got your tongue?" He asked snidely.

Suddenly your mouth felt full and your tongue wriggled mercelessly. Your felt a clump of something hairy against the roof of your mouth. Confused, and terrified, you thrust your tongue from your lips-- only. It was a cat. A rugged, and angry cat. It was hard to tell where your mouth became the cat-- only that you could not close your gaping mouth and it hissed and scratched at your slobbering chin fiercefully. You could taste copper and fur and-- No.

_No._

This was _not_  your first time here. You knew how this place worked. You would not be tricked into submission. And you _believed_  that there was no cat. No scratches. Only your face. Only your regular, human, non-feline, tongue. And it _became_. You found your trembling hands massaging your throat, and you glared, defiantly, up at Bill Cipher.

"Well, well. **Well**!" Bill said, blinking forward with each word until he was centimeters from your face-- staring you down, eyes to eye. "Looky at what we have here. You've already taken your first baby steps in the mindscape. It's not too often that the hairless apes find their way in here. You might know more than you let on. I guess looks can be deceiving, huh?"

"I... Know enough," you replied evenly. The world lurched around you uncomfortably, and flagged stones slid underneath your feet. It was comforting to have something beneath you, at the very least. "I know how to stay grounded."

He... It..? He laughed again in that weird, forced way. A thick, plush, armchair with small inlaid brick patterns accompanied by a claw-footed, round table that looked like perhaps oak, danced into existance before your eyes. Another, appearing behind you, scooped you from your feet and lifted you abruptly to Bill's level, where he sat in his own armchair. Lavish goblets filled with pale, opaque liquid arose from the table on silver saucers inlaid with small, golden eyes. He took his goblet, but did not drink. He crossed his thin, spindly legs, and gaped at you as if measuring your very existance.

You did not want to stare him in that eye. It wanted you to stare at it, but you were too unsettled by what you might see there, for you were certain that you would not see your reflection. 


End file.
